


His Charge, His Friend, His Love

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Charge!Gavin, Guardian Angel!Michael, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:46:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2578778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	His Charge, His Friend, His Love

His Charge. His Friend. His Love.

Inspired by Mavin-mania’s and Hotyahoo’s Angel!Michael pictures.

Warning-some feels.

**_ AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH- _ **

It started in the rain.

Michael walked beside the human, his wings shielding Gavin as the Brit jumped in puddles, the ends of his jeans absolutely soaked and covered in mud.

“Do you want to jump in the puddles with me, Michael?” Gavin asked, a wide grin on his face as he held fast to Michael’s hand, the angel’s wings keeping steady despite being pulled around by the energetic man.

“Do you wanna catch fucking pneumonia and die?” Michael asked just for Gavin to stick his tongue out at his Guardian.

“You’re a wuss,” Gavin retorted, returning to his splashing, finally stopping when he was shivering, his hoodie and jeans completely and utterly soaked so Michael took him home, helping him out of his clothes and helped to try to warm him back up.

But then Gavin got sick.

At first it was just a cough. A nasty one, but it just seemed like a cough.

-

“I’m fine Michael, I’ll be okay. Just a bit of a flu,” Gavin reassured Michael with a smile, pressing a quick kiss to his Angel’s nose, returning to his game. Michael frowned and gave in, turning away and wincing at the hacking cough Gavin had, not seeing Gavin hide the bloody tissue he’d just coughed into.

Then there was the fever and Michael knew there was something horribly wrong.

-

“There’s no fucking way this is ‘just a cold’. You’re really sick, we need to get you to a hospital,” Michael begged, but Gavin just shook his head, lying in bed, his skin beaded with sweat, his eyes barely focused on Michael. He looked delirious but his voice was firm.

“No. I don’t need a hospital. I’m staying here with you,” Gavin insisted, coughing again, this time leaving large splotches of blood on his hand. Michael’s eyes widened as Gavin started hyperventilating, caught between trying desperately pull air in while his body-wracking coughs forced it back out again.

Michael flew him to the hospital after that.

But Gavin didn’t get better. Just worse.

-

“Mi-Michael,” Gavin rasped, his throat raw from coughing and each breath he took rattled with dried blood and gunk.

“Stop talking. You’re sick and talking’s gonna make it fucking worse,” Michael snapped, his hand intertwined with Gavin’s betraying how scared he was. Their hands rested on the edge of Gavin’s hospital bed, careful to avoid pulling on any of the IV’s, not that they were doing much good. Not this late.

“I-...I’m not gonna get through this, Michael,” Gavin managed to say, wheezing and coughing as Michael just held his hand tighter, almost as if the hold would keep him anchored to this world.

“S-stop fucking saying that. You’re gonna be okay. Just hold on,” Michael pleaded with Gavin.

“I’m s-sorry...Michael,” Gavin whispered, licking his horribly dry and cracked lips, “I-...I wa-wanted to say...before I go...I lov-...I-I love...”

The room was silent.

Then that horrid fucking beeping.

That long, shrieking noise that told him Gavin was gone. That Gavin died a slow, painful death because Michael let him play in a fucking puddle. Let him _splash_ around in the _fucking rain._

Michael screamed, the noise muffled as he buried his face in the blankets of Gavin’s hospital bed, the still warm skin of Gavin’s hand pressed against his cheeks as tears ran down them. All while he prayed and _begged_ someone, _anyone_ to please bring him back. To bring back his Gavin, his charge. His friend.

His love.

But no one answered.

-

It was a few days later. Michael stood before a polished, marble headstone, the name ‘Gavin David Free’ carved into it in fancy script, his birth date and his death date, followed by the phrase;

‘Died in the arms of his angel.’

Gavin had chosen it. He’d actually contacted his lawyer in his final fucking days to work out one last thing in his will. Of all the things he could have done, he chose to acknowledge Michael as _his angel_.

“Great fucking guardian I turned out to be,” Michael muttered, not really to anyone in particular as he caressed the tombstone, his fingers tracing Gavin’s name, feeling hot tears run down his cheeks again.

He wasn’t getting a new charge. He gave up his wings, unable to deal with the idea of having to look over someone new. Not after his last charge. His last friend.

His last love.


End file.
